Wura
The schoolyard stretched wide beneath their steps, broken and uneven. The grass was sparse, torn away in patches, bearing witness to the constant passage of students. The sun beat down on the pale stone of the buildings, casting sharp shadows beneath the arcades. Ciel and Wura crossed in silence, their footsteps echoing in the heavy morning air.
Wura walked quickly, the culotte-skirt of her uniform whipping with each stride. She couldn't stand being late. Not so much for the class itself, but to avoid drawing more attention than necessary. They reached the first floor and stopped before a door marked 9A.
The fourth and final year of middle school.
The place where everyone was expected to find their role.
The place Wura refused to face her own.
She knew what was expected of her—of all the youth of the Rada kingdom. To follow the path laid out, to accept their role in the established balance. But Wura knew the truth: this world was a coin with two faces. The visible face, where temples honored the gods, where the dances of the Masquerades dazzled the ignorant crowd. And the hidden face, crawling with far darker secrets.
And she… She belonged to the coin's reverse.
***
The classroom was already packed when they entered. The smell of chalk and dry wood hung in the air, and the murmur of voices faded as the stragglers took their seats. Ten minutes later, the lesson began.
The high-pitched squeak of chalk scraping across the blackboard made Wura shiver.
"Chapter 5: The Chamat Slave Trade – the hidden circumstances of its abolition."
Silence fell, heavy, before the teacher spoke again.
"Tell me," he asked. "What do you know about the Chamat Slave Trade and its abolition?"
At the back of the room, a hand rose. Vignon. His dark skin stood out against his khaki shirt. He lounged in his chair, one leg crossed over the other, a smug smile tugging at his lips. When he spoke, every word dripped with disdain.
"Five hundred years ago, the Alveris came to our land, Alkebulan. They invaded us, slaughtered us, chained us. Our Chamat ancestors were torn from their homes, deported to their distant lands, treated like cattle. The Alveris and all their descendants are our enemies. That will never change."
A shiver ran through the room. Everyone knew exactly who his words were aimed at.
At Ciel.
Rage flared in Wura's chest. She looked at her friend. Ciel was smiling faintly, a fragile smile, as if to reassure her.
"Don't say anything, Wura. Don't make a scene."
But that was impossible.
"Weren't the sovereigns of Sinji just as guilty in this history as the Alveris?" she shot back, breaking the silence. "You've got a short memory. It was the greedy rulers of this kingdom who led Rada to ruin."
A sharp sound.
Vignon had slammed the floor as he stood. He was massive, but Wura didn't budge an inch.
"Nobody asked you, Koéa monkey!" he spat, rage twisting his features. "Don't look at me with those cursed eyes."
Laughter rippled through the class. Wura remained perfectly still.
Let him come.
But the teacher intervened.
"That's enough!"
He was on his feet now, his gaze stern. A heavy silence fell over the room.
"Both of you, sit down."
Wura and Vignon obeyed, but the tension still vibrated in the air.
"We are not here to rekindle old grudges, but to understand history. And in this lesson, we will focus on the impact of the Rada people in abolishing the trade. We will see how Rada spirituality—Voodoo—helped them win the wars, Alveris against Chamat, beginning with the revolt of Bois Caïman in Pétro a hundred years ago."
A murmur ran through the class. Each time the word Voodoo was spoken, it stirred a mix of fascination and fear.
"Pétro, that's the archipelago where most of the Rada slaves were deported, isn't it?" one student asked.
"Yes," the teacher confirmed. "The deported Rada never forgot their motherland, nor their faith. They passed it on to other captives until their spirituality became a powerful bond, uniting their strength. That bond, forged in pain and injustice, became a weapon."
Wura heard admiration in some whispers around her, but also felt the suspicious glances. For some, this story was far too beautiful to be true.
"But sir," a girl with beaded braids spoke up, "how could they fight when Voodoo magic had disappeared since the Great Division?"
A silence stretched before the teacher replied.
"Excellent question. And yet, it happened. Ancient texts describing the battles say the gods themselves witnessed the Rada's suffering. They answered their prayers, just for the time of the fighting. The warriors were said to be possessed by the Loas, just as our ancestors had been before the Great Division."
"But… I heard that was witchcraft," another student blurted out hesitantly. "That the gods never forgave the Rada for killing each other. So the slaves turned to evil spirits to gain their power…"
"Absolutely not!" barked the teacher, his eyes blazing. "Witchcraft is evil, it never serves a noble cause. You know this well."
His voice softened slightly as he continued:
"What happened at Bois Caïman was a miracle of the Loas. Praying to Mawu-Lisa gave our ancestors strength and courage. And that is how they broke their chains."
The end-of-class bell rang. For a moment, the room stayed frozen. Then it burst into chatter. Wura still felt the weight of eyes on her.
Let them look. She didn't care.
***
By the end of the morning, the courtyard buzzed with students. Shouts and laughter filled the air, but Wura heard none of it.
Ciel walked ahead of her, thoughtful, more closed off than usual. Wura frowned.
"I'm leaving."
Her friend's voice caught her off guard.
"What? Where to? Classes aren't over yet…"
"The market will close earlier today. I need to get my shopping done."
Wura narrowed her eyes.
"That's not the only reason, is it?"
Ciel looked away slightly before letting out a soft laugh.
"I'm thinking of leaving Rada too… My place isn't here."
Wura's heart skipped a beat.
"…And where would you go?"
"Anywhere. But I already have a place in mind."
A wave of panic swept over Wura.
"You really want us to split up? No matter where you go, people will always despise us! We have to stay together and fight."
Ciel sighed.
"Wura, it's not about you. This is my choice."
Anger burst out of her.
"Then you're just selfish!" she hissed, her voice trembling. "You don't care about me or Morio. You just want to abandon us!"
Some students had stopped to watch the scene. Whispers spread, a few snickers too.
The two outcasts were tearing each other apart.
Ciel stayed impassive.
"Are you even listening to me?!" Wura cried, grabbing her wrist.
But Ciel slipped free with ease.
"I'm leaving, Wura."
And then she walked away.
A burning fire flared in Wura's chest.
If Ciel left…
Everything would go back to the way it was.
Before she came into her life.
Before she had someone to hold onto.
Before she saw the world in color again.
Her breath grew short.
No. She couldn't lose her.